One Strange Night
by anonymous7
Summary: Trying to deal with his burgeoning feelings for Amanda, Lee has a strange night.


One Strange Night  
  
Summary:  Trying to deal with his burgeoning feelings for Amanda, Lee has a strange night. 

  
Timeframe: Between third and fourth seasons.

  
Disclaimer: All familiar characters are the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions (some characters are mine).  The idea for the story is clearly mine, but it's also clear I borrowed rather extensively from Charles Dickens.  My thanks for his additions.  
  
This story, however, is mine. Please don't archive it without my permission.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Note: I've always been a bit bothered by the sudden change in Lee's behavior between the third and fourth seasons.  I think the Lee of the third season is what I would imagine for a playboy who is beginning to fall in love and imagine being in a committed relationship.  But Lee of the fourth season seems a bit sappy to me.  Don't misunderstand – I like sap, but it seemed a bit over the.  So, I decided to write a story to explain what may have caused the sudden shift.  I hope that it was at the very least entertaining.

I'm sure Band-Aid and Polaroid are trademarks.  I borrow them here with no questionable intentions.

  
Feedback: All is welcome.

The room is decorated a light blue, probably to induce calmness on its inhabitants.  It's not working.  It's not working at all.  Superimposed over all other audio inputs is the sound of the gun firing.  I hear it over and over again, the original sound so loud, I was sure that the entire District could hear it.  Superimposed over all other visual inputs is the image of her body crumpling to the ground like a rag doll.  Her beautiful brown eyes, wide with fright, showing shock, then pain before closing.  Her soft brown curls settling around the stillness of her face as she fell.

I don't see how I will be able to get this vision out of my mind.  And if she doesn't make it … I don't see how I will be able to go on.  I can't really be as alert as is necessary if I keep hearing gunshots in my head, seeing Amanda crumpling to the ground over everything else.

I close my eyes tightly, trying to get rid of this image, these sounds.  'Think of her laugh,' I think, trying to hear it and let it drown out the sound of the gunshot.  A mental picture comes to mind: Amanda two weeks ago.  I had picked her up for work that morning, smiling at her from the car as she came down the walkway.  Her gait was easy and graceful, recalling days of walking to school with my newest crush on my arm.  She smiled easily as she entered the car, leaning over to kiss my cheek as she said good morning and thanked me for picking her up.

I surprised her as we entered the Q-Bureau that morning.  I had talked to Billy the night before to make sure it was okay, and so as we entered the office and Amanda made the mental change from my new girlfriend to my partner and asked what our next assignment was, I smiled impishly.  I hadn't made that transformation.  In fact, I never did.  Ever since the day I kissed her in that very room, I was unable to see her so much as my partner as the woman I adored.  This relationship was different from the ones in my past, and I knew it.

So, still smiling at her, I told her that today's case would not be dangerous.  In fact, it wouldn't even take us out of the office.  One eyebrow raised at me quizzically, she waited for me to continue.

"We're going furniture shopping down in the basement," I informed her.

"We're what?" she asked, incredulous.

"Well, I'm going to need another desk in here, and I thought you'd help me pick it out."   I was surprised when she didn't question me, didn't even look suspicious.  It was getting harder and harder to slip one by her these days, but it was looking like I succeeded this time.

Our trip to the basement was short.  Almost the instant we entered the old room, Amanda spotted the desk.  "Oh, Lee, how about that one?" She pointed to a desk a few feet away, wooden, classic, and precisely the sort of desk I would have thought she'd pick.  We easily hoisted it up the basement stairs, but the stairs to the Q-Bureau where another matter.

Getting caught on the turn up to the stairs, we found the desk locked at the corners.  And that is when she laughed.  Her deep, rich laugh that indicates so much more than simple happiness, a joy in living life.

What a stupid thought to allow myself to have. The instant I had it, the memory was broken and replaced with the sound of the gunshot, the image of her falling to the ground.  Her joy in living life may have been taken from her.

I may have taken that away.  No, of course not, I didn't pull the trigger.  But if I hadn't given her that package, hadn't asked for her help, she wouldn't be here now.  She'd be happily married to that weather-guy, living a simple, uncomplicated life.  It's hard for me to picture that for her, it's so different from the life I've seen her living, but still I can't deny that she didn't seem particularly unhappy when I met her.

It is these types of thoughts that plagued me for days before I kissed her in the Q-Bureau and still do from time to time.  I am just not sure that I can give her the life she deserves.  I recall my words to her when Joe King came back to town, "But okay isn't good enough for you," and fear that I can't give her any more than okay.  Each day I wake up and fall asleep worried that I can't be enough for her, but when I'm with her, I can't help but forget that, as she looks so happy, I get caught up in her joy, in mine at being with her.

But looking at her now, pale and lifeless in a hospital bed, I worry that I'm being selfish.  I should back away and let her go back to her simple, uncomplicated life.  I know she'd miss me, I'm not that foolish, but Amanda has always had the ability to bounce back, she'd be fine, and in the long run, better off.

Yes, I should definitely let her go.  If she ever wakes up, that is.

Holding her hand tightly in mine, I lean back into the seat I've taken beside her.  Closing my eyes, I again try to push away the sound of gunshots, so I can fall asleep.  I'm interrupted when I hear the door to the room open.  It's way past visiting hours, but being an agent has some perks – no one asked me to leave.

The late hour has me surprised that anyone else has come by, though, and I open my eyes cautiously.  When I see Amanda's visitor, my breath catches in my throat.

She smiles at me shyly, her brown hair long and falling past her shoulders as it was the last time I saw her.  "Lee?" she says simply and while I want to rise and meet her, I can't do anything but sit staring at her, feeling my hold on Amanda's hand tighten.

"Mom?" I manage to croak out.

"My little boy," she says softly as she moves closer to touch my face.  I begin to loosen my hold on Amanda's hand, eager to wrap my arms around my mother, when fear grips my heart.  I haven't dreamt of my parents in years, and don't know why I would do so tonight.  Unless, my mother is here for a reason.

With the sob in my voice audible even to me, I ask, "Are you here for her?"

"No, my sweet, she is safe for now.  I am here for you."

I could feel my fears calm as I comprehended her words, but then I feel confusion cloud my eyes, and I hear my mother's laugh.

"Nothing like that, Lee.  I just want to show you something."  She reaches out her hand for me, and I place mine in hers.  My other hand loosens its hold on Amanda, but just before my touch breaks hers, I stop.  I feel torn, between my mother and my Amanda.  I want to see my mother again, but what if Amanda is taken from me while I'm gone.  I can't chance it.  My mother is already gone, Amanda is here.

Sensing my doubt, my mother places her hand on top of mine where it joins Amanda's.  "Have I ever lied to you?" she asks, smiling at me as if I was still the little boy she had left behind all those years ago, and I almost feel that I am.  I nod my head no, and she assures me, "She's safe for now.  I could never be the one to take her from you, sweetie.  She's wonderful, Lee.  I'm glad you found her."

I smile shallowly at her, unwilling to tell my mother that I have decided to give Amanda up.  She IS wonderful, but that is why I need to let her go.

Trusting my mother, I release my grip on Amanda's hand, and find myself in a living room I have never seen before.  I turn to look at my mother quizzically.  "Lee," she says softly, caressing my cheek once again, "You had a miserable childhood." She states this as if it is not something I know.  "And your young adult life wasn't all that much better."  I look down at the ground, wondering why I am to be reminded of this.  "But do you think Amanda's cheery disposition is because her life was so much easier than yours?  Do you not think she has lost, too?"  I glance up in surprise, about to ask what Amanda had lost, when I spot Mrs. West entering.  She looks a little different than she had yesterday when I had spotted her through the kitchen window, but I am unable to pinpoint the difference.

The difference is obvious when I glance at the stairs.  A young girl comes down, about sixteen or so, her brown curls hanging softly to her shoulders, resting on the silk of her dress.  When she raises her eyes to look at her mother, I see into them.  The brown depths are as familiar to me as my own.  It is Amanda, a young Amanda, as lovely as I had imagined.  But there is something different about her eyes, an innocence that isn't there when I look at her normally.  How had she lost that innocence, I wonder.  But she is older, it is only to be expected.

A man I don't recognize comes into the living room, his whole face lighting up at the young Amanda who finished coming down the stairs.  "Panda, you look beautiful," he says earnestly, and Amanda blushes.

"Thanks, Daddy," she says shyly.

The doorbell rings, and Amanda turns to open it.  A young man stands at the entrance, and his smile widens at Amanda.  "Amanda, you look very pretty," he says simply as he clasps her hand in his.  Again, Amanda blushes, then turning to her parents, says "Goodnight, Mother.  Daddy."

"We won't be back to late," the young man assures the Wests, and the teenagers are out the door.

I am still confused as to what we are doing, when I feel a jolt, and my mother whispers in my ear, "Hold on.  This part's a bit bumpy."  Then just as suddenly, we are in the front yard of the Arlington home and a car comes to a stop in front of the drive.  Getting out, Amanda's date comes around the car, to open her door and take her hand.  They walk up the drive together, chatting about the movie they had just seen, stopping on the doorstep.

Amanda looks down at their entwined hands, then back into the young man's eyes.  "Thanks, Mike," she whispers so softly, I am surprised I can hear her.  "I had fun tonight."

"Me, too," the boy says, and leaning forward kisses her softly on the mouth.  Smiling at her as he pulls back, he walks to his car backwards, watching her all the way.

"See you at school tomorrow," he calls and Amanda nods her head.  He stops at the car door and when Amanda looks at him quizzically, he laughs.  "You didn't think I'd leave without making sure you got in okay, did you?"

She smiles at him, and turning places her key in the door.  It opens, and she enters and turns to close it.  As she does, she waves goodbye to Mike, and the door closes between them.

My mother tugs on my arm, and while I am unsure how exactly, we are inside once again.  Only Mr. and Mrs. West aren't waiting inside the way Amanda and I had expected.  A young woman is there, about my age, and Amanda smiles at her brightly.

"Hi, Mrs. Waterson.  Did my parents decide to go out?" Amanda asks.

When Mrs. Waterson raises her eyes to meet Amanda's I knew.  I'm not even sure how I had failed to make the connection before now.  Amanda knew my parents had died when I was young, I had told her just shortly after meeting her.  But somehow, I'd never thought to ask about her father.  For the first year or so, I wanted to know as little about Amanda King as possible, lest I find myself liking her more than I already did.  When I finally got past that, the thought just never occurred to me.  Amanda King lived with her two boys and her mother.  She had for as long as I knew her, so why would I suddenly question where her father was?  But now I know where her father is, why my mother had brought me here, what she had meant when she asked if I had never thought that Amanda has suffered loss.  And most importantly, I know that I don't want to see this.  I don't want to see Amanda go through the pain I know she is about to endure.  I turn to my mother, pleading with my eyes, but while she looks back at me kindly, she shakes her head no.  I need to see this, as much as I don't want to.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Waterson says, nearly whispering.  "There's been an accident."

In a small voice, Amanda asks, "Mother?"  Tears fall from Mrs. Waterson's face as she shakes her head no, and her voice even smaller, Amanda whispers, "Daddy."

"They are at the hospital now, and I'm sure he'll be fine.  You're dad's a fighter." Mrs. Waterson assures her.

"Can we go to see them?" Amanda asks, her voice firmer than I expect.

Without a word, Mrs. Waterson gets up and grabs Amanda's hand and the two move off to the car and then to the hospital, my mother and I in tow.

I sit in the back of the car praying that Amanda will get a chance to say goodbye to her father, but my prayers are not answered.  Dotty West is slumped in a chair in the emergency room, tears streaming down her cheeks when she looks up at Amanda's entrance.

It is clear Amanda knows she will not be able to say goodbye as well as I do the moment she sees her mother's face.  Walking toward her mother, she collapses in her arms, crying in a way I have never seen Amanda do.  A strange moaning, wailing sound comes from her, and when I listen carefully, I realize she is saying "Daddy" over and over again.

A nurse approaches them to get some details for the death certificate, and Amanda takes the seat next to her mother.  She looks up for a moment, and I am nearly sure she is looking directly at me.  Her eyes are covered with a layer of tears, but what haunts me most is the look beneath that.  Amanda's eyes now look normal to me, the innocence she had held earlier that evening gone.  And it hits me like a punch in the stomach that Amanda King carries pain around with her everyday, just like I do.  That just as I wake up every morning and remember again that my parents are gone, so does she wake up and realize her father is gone.

I feel my mother tug on my hand, and I eagerly let her lead me away.  I don't want to see anymore.

However, while I am hoping we were going back to the hospital, when I next realize where we are, I am surprised.  We are in the bedroom of Amanda's Arlington home, and of course, we are not alone.

Amanda sits on the bed, older now, old enough to look clearly familiar to me, maybe five years younger than when I first met her.   Flanked on either side of her sit Philip and Jamie, very young.  Walking back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom is Joe King, packing a suitcase on the bed beside Jamie.

Her voice soft and firm, Amanda asks the boys to go to their rooms.  Eyes downcast, and faces drawn, the boys noiselessly obeyed their mother, closing the door after them.  Looking up to catch Joe's eyes, Amanda asks, "Isn't there another way?  Something that will allow the boys to see you more often?  Will allow me to see you more often?"

"Of course there is," Joe replies, his voice holding a touch of coldness, "you could come with me, but you won't, will you?"

"Joe," Amanda sighs, and he stops his packing to look at her, "is that any way to raise the boys?"

Joe King looks pained, I am surprised to see, and his voice shows it as he replies, "No, you're right, it isn't."  He moves to kneel in front of her, and suddenly it occurs to me that we are in their bedroom and I feel somewhat uncomfortable, like we are intruding.  My mother whispers in my ear, "Just a moment longer."

"But I need to do this, Amanda.  You see that don't you."

Her eyes filled with tears, as she shakes her head yes.  "Yes, I do," she whispers.

A moment later, we are at the airport, watching Joe King say goodbye to his family.  As he kisses Amanda goodbye, he whispers, "I love you."  Waiting until he is moving towards his flight, Amanda whispers back, "But not enough."

I feel tears in my eyes.  She feels like Joe didn't love her enough to stay.  And perhaps she is right.  I am back at that thought, "Okay isn't good enough for you."  She deserves to feel so loved that there will be no question that it is enough.

Surprisingly, her face is suddenly before me, wan and pale.  Shaking my head to clear the image, I realize I am back in the hospital.

I move immediately back to her bedside, running a finger lightly down her cheek, before taking her hand in mine.  Looking over at my mother, a question in my eyes, she whispers, "I need to go now, sweetie," and suddenly I feel like a five-year old boy.

Taking my hand in hers, she whispers, "You've made us proud.  And I know you will keep doing so." Glancing at Amanda, she continues, "Listen to your heart, my little boy.  But remember Amanda is a grown woman, she's suffered without you, and she will again if you leave.  She can make her own choices, let her.  She's the best thing that's ever happened to you.  Don't push her away."  I'm not even able to reply.  "It was so good to see you again," Mom whispers, and she wraps her arms around me.

Letting go of Amanda's hand for a moment, I reply in kind.  "I miss you," I choke out, but as I open my eyes, I realize that I'm alone with Amanda again.

Taking her hand once more, I study her face carefully for any changes, but there are none that I notice since my mother's arrival.  Watching the steady, but weak, rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, I mull my mother's words over.  I want to believe she knows better than I do, but in reality, I'm aware that while the dream felt a lot like reality, it wasn't.  The images of Amanda as a teenager are even more vivid than I would have thought I would be able to conjure, but regardless, what else could it be?  It's just my subconscious looking for a way to not have to give Amanda up.

Sighing I realize that I'm actually pretty tired, considering that I just woke up, and   
I close my eyes once more.  I can feel myself drifting off, Amanda's hand heavy in my own, when suddenly I sit bolt upright in my chair.  I thought I heard something, but actually, I think it was a gunshot, so I must have imagined it yet again.

Settling back into the chair once again, my eyelids flutter closed, and just before they fully close, I realize there's a man in the room.  Opening my eyes, I'm startled at the man in front of me.  He's me, or nearly me, except that this man is sporting a mustache.  In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd swear it is my father.

He's beside me in two large steps, and leaning over, wraps his arms around me.  "It's good to see you, son," he proclaims, like he's coming back from a long trip and not after 30 years of being dead.  "Your mother said you looked well, despite the lack of sleep, but I needed to see for myself."

I stare at him blankly, not knowing what to say.  Am I still asleep?

Dad glances at the figure on the bed, and when he turns back to me, his eyes are sad.  "I'm sorry, son.  I know this is hard.  But Amanda's a fighter.  She'll make it.  You just need to have faith.  She's the best thing that's ever happened to you.  No one's going to take that away so soon," he smiles at me then, a sad knowing smile, like he had spent countless hours in the hospital watching Mom this way, and knew what I was feeling.

Reaching down, he takes my free hand.  "Come on.  We have an appointment."

I finally find my voice enough to say, "No.  I can't leave her again."

Placing an arm around my shoulders, my father pulls me to him.  "I promise you.  She'll be fine."

Again, I feel torn, but this time the decision is easier.  She was fine before, I'm sure a few minutes with my father can't hurt.  I let him lead me away.

Without warning, it's noisy and crowded out, and looking around, I smile.  I know precisely where we are and even why we're here.  I can see her walking towards me although I know I haven't actually seen her yet.

I can't help but smile.  Her hair blowing in the wind, the hem of her nightgown peeking out at the bottom of her coat.  She's in a rush and would probably leave the train station as quickly as she came if it isn't that she's stopped.  A man in a waiter's uniform approaches her, asking for her help.  I can recall my thoughts at that moment.  The mixture of worry over getting caught, getting this civilian caught, and the typical Scarecrow mentality of sizing her up, deciding she has beautiful eyes, is really very pretty, but clearly not my type.

What I'm not expecting is the look on her face when she leans out of the train and sees me being attacked.  She looks surprised, frightened, and determined all at once.  I know now that Amanda King doesn't enter into promises lightly, now it's something that I count on.  Then, had I seen the look on her face maybe I would have realized how much more there was to this innocuous stranger than PTA meetings and poppy seed cake, but at the moment I'm taking a particularly nasty right hook to the jaw and don't notice this mysterious, beautiful woman who has just entered my life.

My father's hand is resting on my shoulder, and he is smiling down at me.  Leaning over he whispers, "I thought this would do you some good.  Let's go."

Taking my hand again, he leads to Amanda's Arlington home once again.  This time she is at the dinner table with the boys and Dotty.  A man I don't recognize sits beside her.  The five people eat dinner in relative silence and I'm surprised by this, always having seen Amanda's family more lively than a football game.

Amanda smiles warmly at Jamie, "How did your test go today, sweetheart?"

Jamie smiles back, clearly proud of his grade, "I got a 90%.  The best grade in the class!"

Amanda and Mrs. West both exclaim at this announcement, while Philip stares solemnly at his plate, and the strange man looks on with indifference.  Amanda turns to him expectantly, "Isn't that great, Dean?  Jamie did really well on his math test."

Dean.  He's more attractive than I had imagined him.  And different, too.  Less like the man I would have picked for Amanda.  I mean, I know I told her I didn't see them together, but the truth was that I did.  I thought they'd fit well together, it's just it would have been a different Amanda – the Amanda whose day was made more exciting by running into a friend at the supermarket instead of running into Russian terrorists with me.

But Dean seems at the same time both bigger and burlier than I would have imagined and duller and less interested in Amanda's family.  He shakes his head at her, and smiles in congratulations at Jamie, but it's clear his mind is elsewhere.

Amanda notices this and scowls.  Later, as they say goodbye, she even chastises him for it.  But he apologizes, and kissing him on the cheek, she closes the door behind him.  Dotty, watching on from the kitchen plays the role I had assumed she would.  She's desperately trying to marry Amanda off.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him, dear.  He's great with the boys, but sometimes it's difficult to come into a ready made family."

"I know, Mother," Amanda says, and when I look in her eyes, I see something I've never seen before.  Resignation.  I wonder if I saw it even then, and that's why I discouraged her from being with Dean, I could sense that she was settling.  But no, even if I did, that's not why I discouraged her from being with Dean.  While back then I would have taken a bullet in the head sooner than admit to any attraction for Amanda King, I knew I kind of liked having her around, and I was sure that had she stayed with Dean and gotten married, that would have been the end of her career with the Agency.

"That man loves you, Amanda.  Don't let him slip away."  Dotty looks sternly at her.  "I think somewhere, despite your practical nature, you dream of the fairy tale romance.  We all do, Amanda, but you can't wait for it, because it rarely exists.  What I had with your father was wonderful, but it wasn't perfect."

Amanda smiles at her mother warmly, "I know, Mother.  And you're right, Dean is perfect.  I'm just not ready to get married again yet."

Dotty moves to hug her, and then goes upstairs to take a bath.  Looking tired and older than I'd seen her look in her own home before, Amanda goes out the back door towards the gazebo.  I guess this is before the days of my surprise visits as she doesn't look for me as she walks.

Sitting down, she looks forlorn, and I'm surprised when she starts talking to herself, staring at the sky above.  It's not something I've ever seen her do, and I've spent a lot of time watching Amanda when she's not looking.

"Is this what it's supposed to be like?  I felt so much more swept away with Joe, and that was a miserable failure.  Is the decision supposed to be rational?  Dean is wonderful with the boys and he loves me, but…  I don't think he's in love with me, and I know I'm not in love with him…   But Mother's right.  Fairytale romances don't exist and being in love doesn't last.  If it did, Joe would still be here…"  A tear makes it way down her cheek, and I ache to lean over and brush it away, but know that isn't possible.

My father grabs my hand once more, and once again, I'm in Amanda's kitchen.  Only this time there are no boys, no Dotty, and no Dean.  It's just Amanda and me.  We're washing dishes and discussing Steven Sallie.  Picking up two pieces of cake, Amanda leads the way to her living room.

It's surprising Dad brought me here as I have every moment of this evening etched in my memory.  I close my eyes, and right on schedule, I hear the slight tremor to Amanda's voice as she says she hopes I like her homemade cake.  Opening my eyes again, I glance back and forth between us.  I see the same nervousness in both our eyes, the same recognition that we are moving towards something, and maybe it's time to acknowledge that.

I say her name as she moves towards me, and then see the flash of disappointment on both our faces as we hear the car door outside.  My father and I follow me outside, and watch while I pace waiting for Amanda to come out, ready to tell her that our emotions are just running high due to the Sallie case, and then see the emotion in my eyes when she comes out, the split second decision to grab her arm and kiss her, however briefly, and then the embarrassment, and running away.

But not running away now, I can see Amanda's face, and she doesn't seem to care that I ran away.  She smiles after me, accepting my fears, the way she always does, and relishes the small kiss I gave her.

My father smiles at me.  "She's amazing," he says softly, "the way she accepts you, fears, scars, and all."  I look at the ground, trying not to think about what I'm about to give up.  "And pretty to boot.  She's exactly what your mother and I always hoped for you."

His hand on my shoulder, I glance up, only now noticing that we are back in the hospital.  I look back at Amanda and am both relieved to see she is still breathing, and disappointed that she still seems to be unconscious.

His voice soft, Dad tells me, "She'll be okay, Lee.  She wants to be okay – to be with you.  Don't do something foolish and make you both miserable."

"Dad…" I start to explain, but then realize he's backing away, and as with my mother before, I suddenly feel like a small boy again, and run to meet him, wrapping my arms around him.  "I miss you, Dad."

I feel his tears on my neck as he holds me, "I miss you, too, Lee.  Let yourself be happy." And then he's gone.

I turn to look at Amanda once more, and walking over, watch her chest rise and fall with her shallow breaths.  I move to rest my hand to hers when the voice behind me stops my movements.  "Rest up, Panda.  It's been a long day."

Turning around, I see another man in our room, but I don't recognize him although he looks vaguely familiar.  Catching my eye, he smiles at me, an open engaging smile, and holds out his hand.  "Good to meet you, son."

As the words leave his mouth, I realize who he is.  He has Amanda's smile and when I make this connection, I realize he is the man I saw earlier this evening.  Plus, he called her Panda.  It has to be her father.

"Hello, Mr. West," I say as I shake his hand in greeting, surprised at the calmness of my voice as if it's everyday that I introduce myself to Amanda's dead relatives.

He turns to look at Amanda once again, and leaning down runs a hair softly down her cheek.  "You look so much like your mother at your age.  I'm so proud of you, Panda.  You're a wonderful mother, an amazing woman, and truly everything I always knew you'd be."  There's a mixture of pride and pain in his voice as he says the words and I wonder if Amanda can hear them.  

He looks at me and his voice firm, he says, "She deserves to be happy.  With someone who recognizes her for all that she is, all that she has to give.  My little girl deserves someone special and she has chosen you.  Don't be a fool and give that up."

I resist the urge to reply, "No, sir," and instead am at a lack for words.

"You've had a rough life, Lee.  I know that.  And you are a good man.  I couldn't want more for my daughter.  Don't let your past make you think you don't deserve a better future.  Stay and give my Panda a happy future."

He reaches his hand out once more and I grasp it, and am startled when I realize we've already left the hospital.  Mr. West smiles at me shyly, "Had to do it quickly, like pulling off a Band-Aid, or neither one of us would be able to leave."  I smile at him, as I look around.

We are in an apartment, and as I see the picture on the coffee table, I realize it's mine.  The picture is of Amanda and me, just a week ago.  We were in park on our lunch hour, and someone had taken a Polaroid of us as we were wrestling lightly.  I'm holding Amanda in my arms, her back to me, and we are both laughing as if we have a carefree life.  The stranger had offered us the picture, saying we looked too happy for him to ignore, and I had brought it home.  It now sits in a frame on this strange coffee table.

The door opens, startling me out of my reverie, and I see myself enter.  Only I look older, a few grey hairs interspersed with my natural color, a few wrinkles on my face.  But most notable are my eyes.  They are empty and lack the joy that I've seen the last few years when I look in the mirror.  Tiredly, I move toward a blinking answering machine, pressing to get my messages.

"Lee, it's Billy," a familiar voice fills the room.  "I'm just checking up on you.  It's been awhile.  I saw Amanda today, she joined Jeannie and me for lunch.  She asked about you and I told her you were well, as I knew that's what you'd want me to say.  She's engaged to Brian now, but she still doesn't seem happy.  She sends her best to you, as always, and asks that you be careful whatever it is you're doing.  Call me when you get this, okay?  Francine never tells me what it is you're doing, always claims it's 'need-to-know'!"  Billy's laugh fades out as the machine beeps and the next message starts.

"Scarecrow, it's Francine.  Call me when you get back, will ya?  I need someone to go to Bangkok for a few days, and you are the only one available.  I have you leaving tomorrow, so call so I can give you the details."  BEEP, the machine moves on again.

The whirring of the machine fills the room for a moment, the caller silent, before a voice, soft, sweet, and unsure fills the room.  "Lee?…  Hi, it's me.  Amanda.  Amanda King.…  I saw Billy today.  He said you're doing well, but I know he's lying.  I can see it in his eyes, and I know you'd want him to say that regardless of how you're doing.  I'm engaged to Brian.  I know that's what you want."  I was surprised at the strength growing in her voice, even as I could hear the tears.  "But just in case you…  Well, just in case, I wanted you to know.  Brian's a nice man and good with the boys.  But I don't love him.  I miss you.  I see you sometimes, outside, looking in the kitchen window.  I wish you'd knock on the door.  I'd come outside, but you'd run away if I did, wouldn't you?" Her voice breaks with a sob, and the answering machine recorded her quiet crying for a few moments. "I hope I'm wrong and Billy was being honest.  I hope you are happy and being careful," her voice fills the room once more.  "I love you."  The words were simple, and surprising, and I am still in quiet shock when the beeping of the answering machine startles me.

Looking at the older version of myself, I watch my hand lovingly caress the machine, as if it were Amanda and not simply a replica of her voice.  In a whisper, the older me replies, "I love you, too."  Somehow, the timbre of my voice makes me recall that we haven't said those words yet.  I know they are true, but I haven't told Amanda that I love her.  Despite that, she's willing even after I let her go, to tell me.  I can't help but admire her spunk while feeling the pain of never hearing her say those words with a smile on her lips.  I wonder what they would sound like.

A feel a hand on my shoulder and all at once we are back at the house on Maplewood Drive.  Amanda and Philip are sitting on the living room couch, and taking in the sight, I realize it's been at least a couple of years as Philip looks nearly like an adult.

"Mom," he's saying, hesitantly, "please don't marry Brian.  We don't need a father.  You do a good job of being a parent all by yourself, and besides, I'm going off to college next year and Jamie a couple of years later.  We know you aren't in love with him.  We don't think you should get married."

Amanda starts to admonish him, but he's been her son for too long and sees it.  "No, I'm serious.  For the last few years you have been so much less happy.  I don't know what made you quit that job at the film company, but I wish you'd find some thing else that makes your eyes sparkle like that did.  Jamie and I like having you around more, but we miss having you be happy.  And we know Brian isn't the answer.  We don't want you to get married just for us."

Before she can respond, I feel a jolt and realize that we are on the move again.  This time we are at a gravesite, and Amanda is weeping openly.  Jamie and Philip flank her, a few years older still.  Both are crying as they hug their mother.  I watch Billy and Francine approach to offer their condolences, and I wonder whose funeral this is.   Looking around, I notice Dotty isn't present, and feeling Mr. West's hand tighten on my shoulder, I realize it's hers

A woman about Amanda's age comes forward, and leads the boys away, leaving Amanda kneeling in front of her mother's grave.  Her tears are gut-wrenching, and I can barely watch them.  I realize Mr. West is having the same problem.

Watching the guests walk away, I notice that there isn't a man standing with Amanda.  Philip's words must have been effective or her husband would be there.  Walking closer to her, I can't help but place a hand on her shoulder, but of course she doesn't feel me.  So, I'm startled when she says my name.  "Lee, I wish you were here.  I could use your strength right now."  She pauses to take a breath, and then whispers, "You would have liked him, Mother.  He was kind and charming, and always watched out for the boys and me.  I'm sure he's here now, staying in the shadows as he always does.  Watch over him for me, please.  I miss you already, Mother."

A movement catches my eye, and I see myself in the trees reaching a hand out, as if I could touch her.  But when Amanda glances up and catches my eye, I run off, afraid to talk to her.

Another jolt, and we are on the move again, only this time we end up back in the hospital.  I glance at Amanda worriedly, but nothing appears to have changed.

Mr. West places a hand on my shoulder and I turn towards him.  "I don't want to repeat your parents' words, but listen to me.  I can't tell you what the future holds for the two of you, but I promise, if you stay with her, you will both be happier than what you just saw.  Don't throw it away.  You don't need to save her from you, son.  You've saved her from herself, and she's saved you from you, and there's nothing sweeter than that."

Turning to look at his daughter once more, he places a hand on hers.  "You are a fine woman, Amanda West.  Be strong.  Your mother needs you, Philip and Jamie need you.  And this young man here needs you, too.  Don't let him go, whatever he says, you hear?  I've been watching over you for a long time, and I've never seen you happier than you have been the last few weeks.  Don't ever worry that I would disapprove of your choices.  Even the ones you think are questionable were made for the right reasons, and I know that.  Your mother will forgive you when you tell her.  I promise."

He moves towards the door, his eyes never leaving her face.  Before he disappears completely, he whispers, "Give your mother a kiss for me, will you?  I miss her terribly and I'm glad she's happy."

I'm not sure what to make of this, and am too tired to think, so I sit down besides Amanda, taking her hand in mine and promptly fall asleep in my chair.  Then suddenly, I'm awake again, and Amanda is looking at me strangely.

"You're awake!"  I can't help but exclaim.

Amanda watches me silently, and then forces words out past her dry throat.  "Your parents?" she asks and before I answer she adds, "Daddy?"  Her question startles me.  How did she know about my strange dreams?

Shaking my head, I realize I have more immediate things to deal with.  "I'll be right back; I need to tell the doctor you're awake."

Her hold on my hand tightens and in her hoarse voice she says, "Daddy said not to let you go, so I won't," she smiles slightly, although I don't quite understand why.

Suddenly, I realize it doesn't matter whether she knows about my dream or not.  I can't go a day without seeing her smile.  And on the off chance that the dream wasn't just a dream, I can't make us both miserable.  I probably can't give her the life that she deserves, but I'm a stubborn man, always have been.  I'll be darned if I don't go down trying.


End file.
